


the runaway prince

by kontj (kaguol)



Series: panindigan [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Mafia AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:54:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28191264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaguol/pseuds/kontj
Summary: all his life, kageyama tobio has been running. what will he do when he’s offered the choice of a lifetime? will he stay, or will he go?
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Reader
Series: panindigan [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2065227
Kudos: 9





	the runaway prince

**Author's Note:**

> warnings. violence, injuries, mentions of blood

Rain poured down the streets of Miyagi, the cold air a sharp contrast with the fire in Kageyama’s lungs. His feet pounded on the wet asphalt, a steady stream of blood falling from his side and disappearing into the pavement.

He was in no condition to be running, for he couldn’t even distinguish which parts of him were bleeding. All he knew that he had a bullet somewhere in his arm, and he was seeing through only one of his eyes. He was in no shape to be escaping – and even if he did, what difference would it make?

Stepping into a hospital meant slaving away behind bars, alive, but not really living.

But staying rooted to the ground meant an unmarked casket six feet under concrete, and someone else to fill in the title of ‘Prince’ as his name was stomped out of existence.

He gritted his teeth at the title he never wanted but had to bear. The title that had ripped him from any sense of normalcy was now going to be his downfall. The castle he had built out of the bricks they threw his had crumbled easily after they had gotten what they wanted from him.

_I’m going to die_ , he thought, his breaths labored as he trudged up the concrete steps. When he sat upon the throne of deceit and ruled with an iron fist, he knew that his reign would end only in bloodshed. Just didn’t know that the trigger would be pulled by the same people who taught him how to use a gun.

But in that moment, as he finally reached the landing, mere inches away from the busy shopping district, his legs giving out underneath him, he blinked away the pools that blurred his vision. Kageyama clawed his way towards the light – his mouth parted, the prayer for salvation dying on his lips as he finally succumbed into the dark.

* * *

_I’m dead._

That was the first thing that came to mind when he tried to open his eyes, only to be met with a bright light. _I’m dead and I’m at the pearly gates_ , Kageyama thought, and tried to move his limbs to give himself a pat on the back, only for a sharp pain to shoot through his arm.

He hissed, and a shadow descended onto him. His eyes adjusted to the change, and he saw a vague outline of a face, with lips pursed in a thin line, and a crease in the brow.

He remembered thinking that angels had the kindest eyes, before once again losing consciousness.

* * *

When he finally regained consciousness, Kageyama found himself in a very blank room. The walls were painted paper white, a stark contrast to the leather couch near the foot of the bed. He took in the scene, and saw the many tubes attached to his body, the act of merely turning his head taking all of his energy. His breaths came out in small puffs, a soft whimper escaping his lips.

“You’re awake.”

His eyes shot up to the direction of the voice, and saw a figure looming at the door. He was met with a figure with tired eyes and a soft smile, and for a second, he thought that everything was okay. That it was all a dream his mind cooked up, and he was going home.

The fantasy lasted for a second, before the memories flooded back in and remember that the home he had thought of had long been reduced to ashes.

His instincts screamed at him to lunge, to get into a stance to defend himself – but his body simply could not carry out the command. So he steeled his eyes, and cleared his throat, lacing his words with every bit of venom he had left.

He was silenced, but not in the way he expected. No cutting retort, no physical blows. He was met with a sigh and a shake of the head, before those tired eyes locked into his.

“I’m glad you still got your fire in you, Kageyama-san.”

His blueberry eyes widened at the address. He had not been addressed that way in a long time and he forgotten what it felt like to hear his name again.

A part of him that he didn’t know still existed reached out to the sound of his name – yet the years of violence literally beat into his system pulled his mouth into a sneer. He opened his mouth to spit back a retort, but found that his voice, for the lack of a better term, was lost.

The stranger noticed his distress and offered him a glass of water. It pained his ego to be assisted to use the straw but he didn’t really have the ability to complain about it even if he wanted to.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes and schooled his face into one he had perfected. A mask of anger and resentment, perfectly curated to invoke fear into the heart of anyone who dared to meet his eyes.

Yet it did nothing to cease your wandering hands, peeling away his covers slowly and inspecting the bandages that hid his wounds. Kageyama noticed the gentleness of your touch as you helped him sit up and applied a balm to his back, giving him an apology at your proximity.

When you had seen to each of his injuries, you made your way to the door, stopping only to give him a wide smile before softly closing the door.

It was the last he had seen of you for a while. For the next weeks, he would be attended to by a variety of personalities, their faces blurred together in a haze. Some tended to his wounds with deafening silence, and though it came with an unbearable weight of awkwardness, it was better than those who stepped in with a song on their lips. Their feigned cheerfulness was much worse, as he was expected to try and keep up with the charade.

As different as they were, there was something that seemed to correlate them. There was a harshness in their eyes that contradicted the gentle nature of their line of work.

He mulled over the thought, staring up at the ceiling as he let the latest nurse attend to the last of his bandages. He had been feeling a lot better, and it was evident as the many tubes and gauze slowly dwindled. Raising a hand to his face, he wondered if there was any way to request a mirror.

“What are you doing, Kageyama-san?”

Your voice cut through his train of thought, the man in question sitting up in alarm. The action was met with a wince, that didn’t go unnoticed to your trained eye. Clicking your tongue, you adjusted the bed so that he could lean against it with comfort.

“How are you feeling?”

The question was nothing out of the ordinary – it was something that he had to answer every time someone came to check up on him. The answer had been automatic, an update on his recent improvement, followed by a thorough full-body check.

Yet there was a softness in your voice that made him stop and consider his words.

“… Better now.”

It wasn’t much, but it was the truth. You smiled at his response, taking out the papers from the thick folder you were carrying along. Your voice then settled onto professionalism, as you talked about his injuries at length. Kageyama tried to listen, he really did, but he found himself using your voice as background noise as his eyes raked over your figure.

He took note of the crispness of your white coat, and the three pens tucked into your pocket. One had a cow print cap. He followed your hands as they moved across the pictures of what he assumes to be a diagram of his body, and how your nails were neatly kept.

For the most part, he did a good job of pretending to listen. He met your eyes half the time, but his own always trailed down to your lips, mind wondering if they were as soft as they looked.

“Kageyama-san?”

“Y-Yes?”

It took a lot of willpower not to mention his blatant staring, but you bit the inside of your cheek and carried on. “What I meant to say is that, if everything goes well, you’ll be discharged soon.”

The words hung over the two of you like a curtain, the reality of the situation settling in. Of course, he had thought about what he would do once he was all better, but now that it was no longer a daydream, he came up empty.

After all, you don’t really have much skills to offer when you’ve trained to hunt and kill all your life.

He merely hummed, head already racing. The moment he stepped out of here – wherever here is – he would be alone. Some time had passed since his last contact with his previous organization, but he didn’t know if they were still on the hunt for him.

As he slipped further down into a spiral of worry, it was your touch that pulled him out of it.

“Huh?”

Your touch was light on his bandaged arm, yet heavy enough to keep him grounded.

“I asked you if you wanted to run.”

Kageyama looked down, finding the envelope pushed into his arms. His hands were still getting used to regaining function, as he tore open the seal and pulled out the papers. Deep sapphire eyes widened, staring at the documents in front of him.

There was an autopsy report, that matched perfectly the injuries that you had just described. It was filed under his birth name, complete with a signature and seal of the coroner.

“This is proof that the Red Prince is no more.”

His heart thundered in his chest, his pulse echoing in his ears as he ruffled through the envelope. Inside were police reports, as well as shots of camera footage from when he was running away. Suddenly, he found himself in that dark alley, drenched from head to toe with his body barely holding him upright.

And in the middle of both factual and fabricated evidence of his death, it was the small rectangular sheet of paper that took his breath away.

It was a one-way trip to Belgium (wherever that was), with a departure date in three days’ time. He stared at it, and of the many things that promised him if he took it. Somewhere, he could start anew, finally put down his foot and grow roots. Maybe then, he’d forget the weight of a gun in his palms, maybe then he’d slowly forget to look over his shoulder every time he turned a corner.

Maybe this time, if he ran fast enough, he’d finally escape the wretched past that he lived.

“At the end of the day,” you began, snapping him out of his trance. “It’s always your choice.”

Your footsteps echoed in his mind as you walked toward the wall opposite his bed, pushing at the center and letting it fold inward, revealing glass windows that overlooked the city. You stared straight ahead, at the flickering lights of the busy night life, of the many people who went about their days, ignorant of the monsters that wore the same flesh as they.

“If you run, you’re merely keeping yourself alive, pushing back the day they inevitably catch up.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat, crumpling the ticket as his hands clenched at his thigh.

“If I stay?”

You turned, your mouth curled up in a grin that held no kindness no purity, eyes flashing with an emotion he couldn’t decipher.

“If you stay, you’ll run with the hounds, bare your fangs and devour the hand who once fed you.”

You stepped towards him, hand tilting his head towards you, his lips a mere breath from your own. His eyes were dark with desire, and you knew that the beast within him had already chosen. The grin on your lips widened, and Kageyama swears you heard his thundering chest.

“And I will be the one to keep you alive.”

* * *

“Oi careful with – _ow_ that hurt!”

Had your eyes not been focused on getting the gauze onto your boyfriend’s wound, you would’ve rolled them to the back of your skull. Satisfied, you gave it a gentle pat, meeting his glare with one of your own. The stare-down lasted momentarily, before the quirk of your lip gave you away, fully blooming into a smile as you pressed a kiss onto his lips.

It took a combination of his pride and all of his willpower to swallow the whine down as you pulled away.

“It wouldn’t have hurt in the first place if you actually listened to me,” you crooned, earning only a hum as he cupped your cheek, hungrily closing the gap between your lips.

He had taken almost a year to adjust to eh new environment, and another to collect enough courage to take you out to dinner, so forgive him if, after almost three, he’s still as addicted to their taste.

“Seriously, get a room,” whined Hinata, to which the blue-eyed sniper only replied with an indecent gesture, his partner blowing raspberries at him as he skipped away. He turned back to you, eyes filled with adoration, as he gazed at the person who had saved him – in more ways than one.

“I’m back.”

His voice was low in your ear, and your heart swelled with pride at the words. Neither of you thought that you’d live long enough to learn that even in the many sins of your blood-soaked hands, you were worthy of such intimacy – and neither of you expected that you’d find such a thing in the arms of each other.

“Welcome home.”

And finally, after years of aimless running, he was.


End file.
